


Random Romance Tidbits

by FirebirdsDaughter



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: I'm always anxious about romantic writing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, also raising the audience age just bc it's a little adult, eventually I will add something besides Zero-One here but the desire to kiss Horobi is too strong, first chapter contains reference to a situation w/ a large power disbalance, i dunno, it's not particularly explicit but it is there, putting the warning anyway just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22086580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdsDaughter/pseuds/FirebirdsDaughter
Summary: Who would have thought the first thing I'd write in 2020 would be about romance?I sure didn't.For ease of tagging, I have elected to separate these from my usual Random Writing Tidbits.Originally posted on Tumblr.
Relationships: Horobi (Kamen Rider Zero-One)/Fuwa Isamu, Horobi/Naki (Kamen Rider Zero-One)
Kudos: 19





	1. Zero-One: Horobi x Fuwa (HoroFuwa)

**Author's Note:**

> As I am not usually much of a romance writer, this will likely not get updated very much.  
> I say, like I update anything at all regularly.  
> But the fact is, I'm usually quite flustered about romance of any kind—one of those kids who used to avert their eyes when they saw people kissing in television… ^^ So this is a little new for me. If you would not mind being a little patient.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So… In canon I want them to be friends (not usually big on canon romance, actually), and in my ‘official’ fanon, they’re friends… But… But kissing, guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, though: This does contain references to romantic interactions (such as kissing and physical contact) of dubious consent—at the very least, there is an extreme power disbalance in the situation.
> 
> Refences to Amatsu Gai and Yaiba Yua
> 
> This is now being expanded as its own work, [Put Me Back Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22204495/chapters/53014252), and updates will be added there.  
> This is so that, when I feel like it, I can other romance stuff I may have written herewhile that idea seed can expand how it likes.

“It wasn’t my idea to put us together!” Fuwa growled, stomping across the floor of the warehouse. “If anything, I’d rather not be here.”

“I have noticed.” Horobi replied dryly, preferring to stand at the centre of the room and look around rather than useless motion. There were certainly traces of Raid equipment production, visible with a simple scan—but ZAIA and all usable trace of them were long gone.

Vulcan’s head spun around to glare furiously at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have been particularly vocal on the subject.”

“That a problem?” Fuwa’s voice came from right beside his shoulder, the human having marched back over to him, eyes blazing angrily.

Horobi sighed, turning to face him, rolling his eyes. “Why must humans be so insufferably _loud_?”

Then Fuwa’s face was in his, practically spitting, like Vulcan always did when he began boiling over. “You trying to start a fight or something?”

Horobi said nothing, just staring back at him for a moment—then, because Fuwa was so close, radiating anger, and because he’d had enough of being pushed and snapped at all day, he leaned his head sharply forward and shoved his lips roughly against Vulcan’s.

It wasn’t really a kiss. More just slamming their mouths together and holding there. But even that was unexpectedly an almost… Pleasant sensation. Fuwa was warm. He was solid. He was… Real. And so very… _Human_. He was everything Horobi should detest with every single atom in his being, and yet the closeness was… Comforting. He felt Fuwa freeze, his heartbeat rising and his breath coming short, telltale signs that said he’d never done this before.

Something in Horobi’s mind misfired, and without thinking he found himself pulling closer, trying to cling to the warmth of Fuwa’s body like the room was suddenly cold, his hands actually reaching up to grab hold of the human’s suit jacket for more proximity. Vulcan was still too stunned to react, but he didn’t falter or stumble back when Horobi pressed closer against him, stedfast as a pillar. Horobi’s head tilted, unbidden, like his body wanted to turn this into a real kiss, his lips moving against Fuwa’s. The reaction made even less sense to him—HumaGear had no hearts, no lungs, no blood. He should have no instincts that could move him without his command… But he’d also learned long ago that they were still sensitive to touch—and something about contact with Fuwa made him want more. Abnormally warm, heartbeat like a bass drum, and the sheer fact that Vulcan hadn’t tried to kiss back at all, wasn’t trying to press the unexpected advantage he suddenly had or make use of Horobi’s abrupt loss of guard. The complete opposite of _that person_ …

When Fuwa finally did move, it was to shove Horobi away, like the touch was painful to him, jerking back and staring like a deer caught in headlights. With some distance between them, Horobi’s senses came back online, and he immediately tried to recover some of his own dignity, reassuming his usual cold expression. Vulcan took longer to bounce back, visibly struggling to calm both his heartbeat and breathing.

He looked so startled and lost that Horobi couldn’t resist a smirk. “… I would have assumed you had at least kissed before.”

Fuwa turned red, though it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “W… What are you…?”

“It is particularly obvious by how flustered you are.” Horobi informed him shortly, not bothering to wait for him to finish.

“Of… Of course I’ve…!” Fuwa’s panicked look settled into an only slightly rattled glare as he trailed off. “And what the hell would you know about kissing?!”

“More than you do, apparently.” Horobi tilted his head, analysing Vulcan’s agitation. “Really? No one?” He smirked slightly once more. “Not even Valkyrie?”

Fuwa flushed even more at the mention of Yaiba, turning away to collect himself. By the time he looked back over at Horobi, however, his eyes had narrowed even more, his mouth twisting. “Sh… Shut up!” He snapped sourly. “Where the hell did a HumaGear trying to destroy humanity learn kissing, then?!”

“Amatsu Gai.”

The answer was so immediate and flat that it threw Vulcan off for a moment, and his rage was tempered by bewilderment. “A… Amatsu?” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he found anymore words. “You… You kissed _Amatsu_?”

Horobi merely stared at him blankly. “I did not say that.”

“But you just…” It was like he could see the gears turning as Fuwa processed his statement. “… Oh.” Vulcan’s expression shifted even more, a look creeping onto his face that was partway between horror and… Pity? “Oh.” He said again, gaze dropping to the floor.

Horobi raised an eyebrow at him. “Satisfied?”

Fuwa was quiet for long enough that Horobi began to turn away, until the man abruptly spoke, far softer than before. “Then… Why kiss me?”

Horobi froze. He had no answer—his initial intention had been to force the human to be quiet, maybe embarrass him—but he had no excuse for his behaviour after that. Especially not the way he’d tried to get closer and deepen the kiss. Was it the overwhelming, petty sense of finally taking something that before had only been taken from him? Or was it because Fuwa was so much Amatsu’s opposite that it felt like… Like contact with him somehow cancelled out what Amatsu had done. At the very least, the drastically different sensation overrode the lingering, phantom memory of Amatsu’s touch, something he could still feel years after the last time the President of ZAIA had even been in the same room as him. HumaGear didn’t experience or need for intimacy the same way humans did… But the way the sensation of Amatsu’s cold fingers curling around his chin, or tracing the lines of his face and down his neck, running through his hair, while the mouth over his would occasionally bite down sharply on his lip as a reminder of who was in control, still clung to him like invisible shackles had taught him that touch not only mattered, but would stay with them for a long time. With Jin the binds had lightened—focusing on his son had given him something else to think about, something infinitely more pleasant. The Ark’s will had been a purpose beyond the chains of the past; both a chance to be something more than… _His_.

But Jin was gone and the Ark had been no freedom at all, and the feeling of the cold hands clawed back in, wrapping back around his throat. The contact with Vulcan had unexpectedly overridden the memories, the warmth chasing away the ghostly cold. Whenever Jin had touched him, all his senses had locked onto that contact as a welcome distraction, but that was all it was. Jin’s touch was different; it didn’t—couldn’t—seek out the lingering traces of Amatsu’s hands and wipe them away, as Fuwa’s had seemed to, like he was washing away stains.

He hadn’t realised how long he stood frozen until Fuwa’s voice came again, slightly closer. “Oi. Did you hear me?”

Slowly, Horobi turned his head to look at Vulcan, who had taken a few steps aroundto stand in front of him again. One of Fuwa’s hands was partially extended, like he’d been thinking about reaching out to the HumaGear—when Horobi looked at him, however, he quickly snapped it back, looking vaguely self conscious. For a moment, Horobi just stared at him. “… I do not know.” It was not a lie. He was genuinely unsure of what his purpose had been. “… You are not Amatsu Gai.”

Fuwa gave him a look like he thought he was going senile. “Well… Obviously.”

“That had… An unexpected effect.”

Vulcan frowned, shifting even nearer, enough that Horobi could detect just a slight hint of his higher body temperature, his hand drifting out again. “… Horobi…”

When Fuwa’s fingertips actually brushed his sleeve, his gaze flicked further up to meet the human’s eyes, which were now brimming with some sort of weird mix of emotions that Horobi was certain he would never be able to properly process—but there amongst them, just like before, were horror and pity. Staring into Fuwa’s eyes, with the man so close that the warmth he radiated like a bonfire was beginning to seep through the the fabric of his coat, Horobi could suddenly feel every single persisting trail of Amatsu’s touch he’d ever endured, wrapped around him like a horrible, frozen cloud—and he just wanted it all _off_.

It wasn’t even a full step forward to be close enough to kiss Fuwa again—and this time, his mind was clear, and his every motion deliberate as always. Vulcan wasn’t as shocked, either, and though he initially tensed when Horobi’s lips first touched his, he relaxed after a moment, rather than pulling away. For a bit, he just let Horobi kiss him, holding still as the HumaGear’s hands drifted up again, this time to grab handfuls of his blazer, pulling closer—then his head tilted slightly, pushing back just a little, like he was trying to ask a question. Horobi paused, pulling back just barely enough to speak, and used a word he’d only uttered a very few times in his life, “ _Please_.”

Vulcan promptly closed the tiny distance between them. Fuwa kissed as angrily as he did everything, with the same air of spoiling for a fight. His mouth was warm, his lips slightly chapped, and he inexplicably tasted like coffee and chocolate, though Horobi knew that as a HumaGear, he shouldn’t be able to taste anything. It felt like a challenge, an invitation to push back, rather than an expectation of control. His hands settled lightly on Horobi’s arms, leaning closer rather than pulling or grabbing, staying completely away from the HumaGear’s face. His mouth was clumsy against Horobi’s, inexperienced—Horobi suspected that if he had ever kissed before, it hadn’t been since high school at the latest—nothing like the practiced grace Gai had used. His heartbeat and breathing were fast and loud, almost panicked again, bursting with emotion, not light and unaffected.

He’d never really considered how small Fuwa actually was, either—he’d always known the man’s exact height, but had never had reason to compare it to his own. Now he realised Vulcan had to tip his head up and stand slightly on his toes for them kiss. With that knowledge, his hands loosened from Fuwa’s suit, one moving to the back of the human’s head, fingers weaving into Vulcan’s hair—the other arm went around the human’s waist, lifting him easily off the ground. Fuwa gasped sharply, his own arms shooting around Horobi’s shoulders for balance, fingers scrabbling against the HumaGear’s back for purchase—not that Horobi was in any danger of dropping him. Once they’d settled into a more comfortable equilibrium, Fuwa’s hands began exploring, tracing new memories across Horobi’s back and shoulders, even up the back of his neck to the edge of his head wrap, fingertips even slipping under it, brushing against the hair beneath. Horobi let his more complex systems slow down, choosing to lose himself in Fuwa’s warmth, in the strange, combat-like kiss, shutting out the rest of the world, even his own internal clock.

Eventually, it was unsurprisingly Fuwa who pulled back first, shoulders heaving, voice breathless. “… Some of us need to breathe regularly.” For a moment, they kept just staring at each other—until Vulcan finally swallowed nervously. “So…” He rasped, raising his eyebrows, “… Can you put me down?”

Horobi hesitated for a moment, but finally he reluctantly lowered the human back to thefloor, arms lingering around him for a bit before at last pulling away and stepping back. He turned away slightly as Fuwa smoothed and righted his clothes in awkward silence, trying to put his own mind back in order, and finally realising the situation he’d put himself in. “… We never speak of this again.”

Vulcan took several more deep breaths, raising the back of his hand to his lips. “Damn… You even _kiss_ like you’re trying to kill someone…”

Horobi glared at him. “We. Never. Speak. Of. This. Again.”

Fuwa watched his expression for a moment, then nodded slowly. “… Agreed.” He said, at last.

Satisfied, Horobi spun on his heel and marched off without waiting to see if Fuwa was following him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually spent a lot of time, more time than I usually spend, at least, thinking about the concept of intimacy and how it would relate to HumaGear… Obviously, they have no blood flow, or breath, or heartbeat, etc. But they do seem to be sensitive to physical contact, can differentiate between it being pleasant or unpleasant, whether it hurts or not… It seemed to me that could end up being their version of a reaction to intimacy, contact that they feel comfortable w/, in a way. Would also have a level of having rights to what happens to their bodies, etc.


	2. Zero-One: Horobi x Naki (HoroNaki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More kissing.  
> … It's very telling that most of my first ever romance fics begin w/ someone kissing Horobi.  
> … I'd like to kiss Horobi.
> 
> References to HoroFuwa and I guess potential HoroFuwaNaki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little shy about this one bc Naki is very hard to write for me, I don't really feel like I have a good sense of their character, so I apologise if this comes across as ooc. Horobi and Fuwa are really easy for me to write, but I don't feel like I personally have terribly much in common w/ Naki atm, so… I struggle. DX  
> I do kinda like how this came out, though.  
> I just… Really wanted to write something about someone looking after Horobi, and then I was like, screw it, I want them to be kissy. ^^  
> I'm gonna stop now, I'm rambling.

“… Stop.”

Horobi frowned, cracking his eyes open slightly and looking towards Naki, silhouetted against the window as they sat at the desk. “… I am not doing anything.”

They set whatever they had been looking at down on the table with a soft click. “I can hear the self-loathing from here.”

“That is not possible.”

“And yet it’s the truth.” With a sigh, they rose and crossed over to where he was sitting on the sofa, looking down at him. “What are you trying to rationalise? Why must it be your responsibility?” They tilted their head, folding their arms, “Why can you not simply call it what it is—a betrayal?”

Opening his eyes fully, he turned his head to meet their gaze. “It is not a betrayal.” Just as quickly as he’d raised his head, he looked away. “Jin has done nothing wrong. It must be I…” He trailed off, biting his lip slightly, “… If he he hates me now, the failure is-”

Naki put a finger to his lips before he could finish, cutting him off. “I said _stop_.” They told him, more firmly. Waiting a moment to make certain he would stay quiet, they twirled the finger around to curl under his chin, lifting his face so their eyes met again. “Stop making justifications.” Slowly, their other hand drifted up to stroke his cheek, gaze flickering briefly over the side of his face his son had been aiming for. “… Are you hurt?”

“… I am undamaged.” But his eyes flickered away from theirs as he spoke.

Naki frowned, stepping closer. “Move.” Releasing his face, they grabbed his wrists, moving his hands and lightly pushing his back against the sofa so that they could climb into his lap and sit facing him, loosely straddling his hips. “Look at me.” He did so reluctantly, not meeting their eyes; with another sigh, they reached up and took his face in their hands again, tilting his head a little to examine more carefully. There was no fresh damage, unsurprisingly, the Ark hadn’t allowed the blade to go close enough to cut anything, but… Something was off. Without a single hesitation, they slipped their hands under his head wrap, gingerly lifting it off his head to fold up and set on the cushions beside them.

“Naki-” He shifted under them, one hand starting to raise—then their knuckles brushed along the cracks in his artificial skin beneath where his earpieces had been, and whatever he had been about to say gave way to small sigh and a shiver, his head tilting to the other side.

That, at least, was familiar. But there was definitely something else different—the cracks were wider, longer, and deeper, greying at the edges. “… These are worse.” They reached up to the other side of his head as well, feeling out the broken areas, steadily and carefully, making certain to only touch the areas they knew either did not hurt or were more pleasantly sensitive. Horobi made more quiet, relaxed sounds in response, his eyes lulling closed again, despite the scolding tone in their words—but as they began checking the mechanics proper, Naki’s frown only deepened. Horobi was just sitting still, practically in standby, but the metal was warm to the touch, and there were new irregularities around the circuits they could reach. Leaning back a little, they blinked their eyes a few times to scan the rest of him—yes, the effect was spread through his whole body, like some sort of hungry, consuming rot. Like he was… Decaying. Degrading. “… It’s hurting you.”

Slowly, Horobi’s eyes reopened, but he still didn’t look at them, gazing over their shoulder instead. “This is nothing.” But his voice was edging into the same blank, tired tone he used to defer to the Ark, “I am-”

Naki quickly set another finger to his lips before he could go any further, tilting their head into his line of vision. “I told you to stop.” There was another long moment of silence as they waited to make sure he would listen, gazing thoughtfully at him, “… Honestly…” With a deep sigh, they shook their head, their finger slowly shifting to gently trace the shape of his lips, “… Do I have to stop your mouth?” As they moved their finger back across his lips, they pressed a little harder so that the fingertip slipped between them, watching with growing interest as they parted easily.

“Naki…” Their name was an uncertain whisper, his hands floating up to loosely hold their waist.

“Shh…” They leaned closer, their finger slipping from the corner of his mouth to trail down his throat, “That’s enough.” Before he could even begin to argue, they closed the distance between them, covering his mouth with theirs.

He was as easy and delightful to kiss as they remembered, melting back into the couch, gripping a little tighter at their waist—and those lips… It probably wasn’t right, they supposed, for a HumaGear built for the purpose Horobi had been made for to feel like he was _made_ to be kissed, but at the same time, it was hard to care when actually doing so, his face cupped in their palm. They had to wonder what it might have been like if they had taken advantage of Vulcan’s human sensitivity and used him to kiss Horobi; Vulcan had seemed to be particularly susceptible to physical sensations, and humans had so many other senses, too… Feeling Horobi’s mouth through Vulcan would have been such an intriguing experience. Both of them would likely have fussed, though Naki suspected they would also both enjoy it in the end. Horobi’s lips were so nice that even a human wouldn’t be able to resist, and Naki knew him well—and they’d also ended up finding themself almost _more_ familiar with Vulcan’s body. Definitely enough to notice that both been interested in each other despite themselves and their circumstances, even if they’d been in denial and would have needed a prodding. The thought was followed by a surge of regret at the missed opportunity, and Naki sighed into the kiss in disappointment.

But that remorse quickly faded to the back when Horobi started kissing back properly, his arms slowly crawling up from their waist to wrap around them, pulling them closer, one hand sliding up their back while the other arm coiled around their shoulders. They could hear his body, far easier than usual, metal creaking, sparking of poor connections, something that sounded like a leak. His motions were slightly off-kilter and delayed, and there were warm patches developing all over him, they felt it in his torso as they curled their arms around his neck, pressing flush against him. Containing the Ark was taking a horrible toll on his system and mechanics—it would be best for him to not move around much; but that was fine. The kiss was enough, just a small moment of comfort and connection for both of them. They wove their fingers into his hair, drawing him deeper, nipping lightly at his bottom lip, smirking slightly when he whimpered faintly in response.

At last, Naki shifted back just barely enough to speak, “Next time…” They whispered into his mouth, lips brushing as they spoke, “… I carry her.”

“Naki…” Horobi didn’t pull away at all, either—Naki wasn’t sure he could, with their arms tight around his neck, how stiff and damaged his body was now—just mumbled the words right back against their lips, one hand drifting up to touch their cheek, “… No. I-”

Naki pushed forward again, giving him another pointed kiss to cut him off before moving back to talk again. “You spend your time taking care of everyone else…” They murmured, slowly combing their fingers through his hair, “… Let someone else take care of you.” He looked ready to argue again, so they worked their hands deeper through his hair, arranging to trace their fingertips over those secret paces in the damaged parts of his head once more, making him groan again, lids fluttering down again. “Just let go now, love.” He hesitated for another moment, the tension in his worn body palpable as they held him.

Then he gave in, slumping back against the sofa, turning to putty once more, his eyes fully closing. Naki sealed off the slight space between them again to restart the kiss, deepening it even more, running their hands through his hair and over the remains of his earpieces, biting at his lip once more, just a little harder. His arms wrapped closer around them, cradling them against his chest, kissing back as much as his overwrought body could muster, even the jerky and delayed motions still tender and soft. Naki let their own eyes close, relaxing into the kiss themself now that they knew Horobi had, taking their time while they had it, enjoying the moment for all it was worth. Pleasure was a rare gift for either of them now, and they weren’t going to let it pass by—nor were they going to let Horobi do so, like he so often tried to.

Really. Sometimes, in so many ways, as intelligent and adaptive as he was… He could be such a fool.


End file.
